


The Peacock

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Small Town, Based on a true story because I'm gay and have a lot of feelings, Bc I'm a sucker for that, Established Relationship, Everyone is hella salty about it, Fictional sports, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Like it's a town favorite but besides that nobody knows wtf it is, M/M, Resident Small Town Sport (Killer) Champion!Lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8896690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/Ididntsignupforthisshit
Summary: Keith thought that The Peacock would be the death of him.     No, not the bird. He didn’t mind the peafowl; they were majestic while screaming bloody murder. Nah, they’re great.     Peafowls weren’t his problem. His problem was his goddamn boyfriend. Lance “the Peacock” Rios, their high school's soccer striker and current “Killer” champion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DO Y'ALL KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS?  
> HUH?  
> WELL, NEITHER DO I. IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME, THO. I FINALLY FINISHED IT.  
> Please enjoy my efforts--

         Keith thought that The Peacock would be the death of him.

    No, not the bird. He didn’t mind the peafowl; they were majestic while screaming bloody murder. Nah, they’re great. He remembered growing up when his mom would take him to their town’s lavender festival. The people who ran the festival owned peacocks. Keith would stare in awe of them through the fences, jaw dropped and eyes wide in admiration as they jumped and flew from in between their houses.

    So no, peafowls weren’t his problem. His problem was his goddamn boyfriend. Lance “the Peacock” Rios, their high school's soccer striker and current “Killer” champion.

    Personally, Keith thought that letting Lance play was cheating, but he knew that if he voiced his concerns he would be subjected to Lance’s stupid smirk and teasings of “Yeah? I think you just know that I’m better than you are.”

    Keith knew that Lance was better than he was. Lance was better than  _ everyone _ and they full well knew it.

    Lance could dribble a soccer ball like his life depended on it - like  _ everyone’s _ life depended on it. Keith had once seen him dribble a ball with the top of his foot over one hundred times as they were standing in a store parking lot, waiting for Pidge to show up so they could head out to the soccer field for the day, for Chrissakes! He did it effortlessly as they held a conversation, like it required next to no effort to do it.

And he was so goddamn smug about it, too, which was was possibly the worst part.

    Everytime he would wait for the ball to be served, there were the  _ taunts _ \- the ones that haunted Keith’s very being. The way he would clasp his hands behind his back and pop his chest out as he strutted (there was no other word for it!) around the arena, making that godawful sound where he rolled his tongue, but the sound was high pitched, trilling, and did dangerous things to Keith’s insides. He’d flutter his stupid eyelashes and blink his pretty eyes as he taunted, waiting for the ball to be served. Waiting for the opportunity to score again that he would undoubtedly snatch right out of the fucking air. Lance knew full well that what he was doing with his body made his boyfriend week in the knees, left his heart beating at a quickened pace. Keith personally blamed Lance for every single one of his losses.

    Keith knew what would be in store for him when he agreed to go play Killer with them. He knew what he was getting into as he sped passed the little grocery, down the streets of their tiny town towards the tiny park where the “arena” had been set up. He reveled in the late August air that carded through the strands of hair not covered by his snapback, smiling at the way it rushed passed his cheeks and in his ears. He knew that soon, it wouldn’t be the pleasant warm air on his cheeks soon enough, but rather flushed with blood and covered in sweat from his efforts.

    He turned at the intersection of Main and Wood, going down the sweeping hill that most of the little businesses, many of them now abandoned, rested on odd angles down the hill. He squinted at the sun in his face as it dipped down low, beginning to settle down for the night. He scrunched up his nose and angled his head down in an effort to better get away from the unforgiving glare. His fingers squeezed at the breaks when he was picking up too much speed, edging on dangerous.

    There were two lanes of train tracks at the very bottom of the hill. As the stone quarry just out of town was constantly sending out cars of crushed stone and the Farmer’s Cooperative regularly transported grain and the like, there was the constant train activity through out the little town where the tracks intercepted Main twice, slicing up to Evans Street each time.

     Keith breezed passed the tracks, relieved that he hadn’t caught the late train as he progressed down to the bottom of the hill and to the local park. He passed by the official playground equipment around to where the soccer field and the fairgrounds sat almost menacingly in the increasingly darkening evening. He spotted the others gathered already by the little concrete slab in the middle fairgrounds. The concrete slab was of no importance, it was the little pit built atop of it that was of note. The crude, but functional octagonal enclosure was what everyone had simply referred to as “the pit.”

    It was primarily used as a place to play Gaga Ball for the kids around town in regular tournaments - events so big that they were close to all out getting sponsorships from the local restaurants to cater - but the pit was also used by Keith and his friend group for their regular games of Killer.

    “Look who decided to finally show up!” Keith heard as he slowed to a stop just off the road and set his bike on its kickstand.

    “I got caught up,” he said in lieu of a hello as he crossed the little space to the pit. “Not everybody lives by the field,  _ Lance _ .” Someday, he was going to build another Killer arena across the town, maybe by that church that nobody goes to,  _ just _ to set it away from Lance’s house that happened to be across the street from the park on this side of the tracks. The only downfall to that plan would be that Keith would still be far away from it, unless he cut across the honeycombed streets of apartment houses, which was  _ seriously _ frowned upon unless you lived in the area.

    He once got yelled out by an elderly lady named Marie for cutting across the alley. She snapped a towel in the air at him and told him to skedaddle. He’s never run so fast in his  _ life _ , okay?

    To his words, Lance simply smirked, the purple kickball already safely in his hands. He twirled it between his fingers and leaned against the side of the brown painted side, his hip cocked. “You live like, two minutes away. The only way you were late is, like, if you couldn’t pedal your bike fast enough because your short legs are  _ weak _ .”

    Keith resisted to roll his into the back of his skull and climbed into the little enclosure. “You’ll see how weak my legs are when I kick your ass today,” he said as he stood straight again, puffing out his chest the tiniest bit. Lance dropped the ball and bounced it on his knee twice before punting it over to Keith, who caught it easily.

    “Good luck, man.” Lance’s voice was light with what was possibly the beginnings of a little laugh, but it never progressed beyond that. “Besides, I bet there’s better thing you can do with my ass besides kicking it, right?” he teased, tossing a wink his boyfriend’s way.

    Keith’s cheeks warmed and he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, like maybe knocking you back down on it after I kick you off the huge pedestal your ego’s created?”

    “Alright boys,” Pidge muttered, looking up from xyr phone over the tips of xyr glasses where xe sat precariously atop the wall of the enclosure. “I gotta be home by nine thirty, so stop flirting with each other and let’s get this started.”

    Hunk hummed beside xem from where he was absentmindedly sucking down a soda. He straightened up and placed his polystyrene cup outside of the wooden border. “Rules are the usual,” he said, his voice picking up flecks of something that screamed  _ ref _ . “Three taps on the ball before you can freeze it. Hands are off limits, but other than that, anything else goes. Last one left in the ring wins.”

    “You know, I think that we outta bump it to taps two for us,” Pidge said, hopping down and slipping xyr phone into xyr pocket. “Because of _ They-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named _ kicking our asses into the concrete every time we play.”

    “It’s just because I’m the best!” Lance declared, a stupidly attractive smirk on his face.

    Keith rolled his eyes and Hunk groaned. “Pidge don’t give him any opportunity to brag!” Hunk tutted, kicking the heel of his Converse back against the inclosure.

    Pidge snorted, gesturing for the ball from Keith, who obliged xem. “Please,” xe scoffed. “We all know that  _ Lance Rios _ needs no reason to brag the hell out of himself.”

    “And my boyfriend,” Lance chipped in, shooting Keith a finger gun and a flirty wink. Keith gave the wink right back. Lance grinned, looking back to Pidge. “I brag on myself, and my boyfriend all the time. It’s so easy when you’re both just so…” He gave a blissful sigh to the little wisps of discolored clouds above. “So amazing and fantastic and brag-worthy.”

    “Okay, Romeo,” Pidge said, shaking xyr head. “C’mon, we have to hurry up and start.” Xe held up the ball in xyr hands. “Who wants it?”

     Lance’s reaction was instantaneous, smiling widely as he held out his arms, offering himself up. “I’ll take it,” he said, showing all teeth.

    Keith stepped up first, holding up his arms, fists tight so he wouldn’t have the temptation to slap at the ball. Pidge shot Lance a look before giving the ball a light toss in Keith’s direction. He caught it with his elbow, tossing it back into the air.  _ One _ . From the air, he was able to roll his body, hitting the ball with the left side of his chest. That was two. The ball dropped and just as he brought his knee up to tap at the ball, the ball rolled off his abdomen and fell to the ground. An exclaimed curse made it out of Keith’s mouth, but that was all.

    His play was over, he missed the last tap.

    The ball rolled to Hunk, who caught it with the toe of his shoe and lifted it into the air high enough to kick his leg out and his the kickball with his shin. It left his range and went, regrettably, straight into Lance’s.

    A hit with his right knee, and then his left. The ball was left to bounce helplessly against Lance’s body as Keith, Hunk and Pidge were all simultaneously debating whether or not physically tackling Lance was an option or not. They weren’t given the option when the ball was shot up, bounced,  _ twice _ , on Lance’s right forearm before he grabbed the ball directly in his hands.

    “Freeze!” Lance shouted. To his order, the other three teens froze in place, dreading. Lance looked around, his bottom lip caught between his teeth for a moment, considering. “Alright, Pidge. Get the hell outta here.” He shot the ball and it clipped the kid on the shoulder. Pidge gave a groan and a curse before setting straight and climbing over the little wall of the enclosure.

    “Give ‘em hell!” xe shouted, leaning xyr forearms on the wood. “C’mon, you two can do it!”

    Hunk snorted. “Yeah, yeah, and I can explain the Pythagorean theorem in ten words.” He caught the ball as Lance tossed it to him. He looked at the purple ball in slight confusion for a second before lifting his head back up to Lance. “It’s Keith’s serve, actually.” He handed it to Keith, who took it gratefully.

    He looked between Hunk and his boyfriend. Hunk looked  _ ready _ , his face was hard and concentrated, eyes trained directly on Keith’s hands.

Lance in the other hand looked absolutely unconcerned.

    There was the shifting in his stance - how he rolled on the balls of his feet, moving his hips to a beat no one else could hear, but clearly see. He was ready to move at a second’s notice and that was clear to all. The coy tilt to his lips and the slight quirk of his eyebrow left Keith with a want to kiss him. Kiss the expression off of his face and leave it with something else. Something a little more breathless.  _ Something a little less taunting, dammit _ .

    Keith twirled the ball between his fingers, gaging his chances when Lance opened his big mouth. Caught somewhere between a trill and a purr, it was, dare Keith’s little gay heart admit, very alluring. Lance’s wasn’t quite to the entire  _ peacock _ stage yet, but it was  _ enough _ .

    Enough to where Keith took no time in hurling the ball directly at his boyfriend so that it smacked him directly in the forehead, leaving Keith’s battle cry behind him. Lance’s curse was loud and in a jumble of syllables that Keith couldn’t exactly decode, but honestly, Keith didn’t regret a thing.

Not even when Pidge leaned over the railing, wailing, “Weak!  _ You are weeeaakkkk _ .”

    Keith barely bothered flipping xem the bird before he was subjected to Lance’s rant about the dangers of cheating.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So anyway. While the situation is based on a true story, the actual setting is not. It's from my mind and is... very different and more picturesque than my hometown. ALSO, this fic came from my home town being obsessed with their sports and how the underground group of teens were taught the game "Killer". It's a program and a half, lemme tell you. And like, the taunting in this game is real. The Peacock is real. She is beautiful and haunts my dreams and I am gay. Holy croW.
> 
> I have no idea if Killer is an actual game or not. It isn't, to my knowledge. But eh, I might just not know of the underground ball ring that is Killer.
> 
> This isn't beta-read. If I messed up on any grammar/made any mistakes, please let me know!
> 
> Ahh, please drop me a comment!  
> I'm on tumblr @goddammitlance ! That's a Voltron sideblog. My personal/YOI blog is @youngtiredandhungry !


End file.
